Simply having a wonderful Christmas time.

As the holiday season progresses, I become more and more convinced that Paul McCartney contributed little to nothing to The Beatles dynamic. If the Christmas song he composed on his own is any indication of his talent, then there was no Lennon/McCartney. There was just Lennon.

Let's take for instance, Lennon's Christmas song, and compare it to McCartney's baby Jesus-offending Christmas song. I think we're all sick of them both long about the twenty or ninetieth time we hear them on the day after Thanksgiving, but McCartney's "The choir of children sing their song. They practiced all year long. Ding dong. Ding dong" and other such commentary is especially hard for me to take for some reason. I get hostile, and slam garland on the scanner. I yank the little rubber bars away from the children who are using them to fuck with the moving belt. I tell people I don't know where Linens & Things is located when they ask. And that's a lie. I do know.

Maybe you're having a wonderful Christmas dreaming up abnormally shitty music, Paul McCartney, but don't ruin ours with it. Ugh.